Chapter 5: The Aftermath and the Promise
Three days had passed since the garden. Three days of pancakes and honey, of wind chimes and koi ponds, of June's laughter filling the house like sunlight. The troll's account had been suspended within twenty-four hours, the platform's formal apology arriving in May's inbox with all the sterile warmth of a form letter. We take your community's safety seriously. We have permanently banned the account in question. We appreciate your patience.
May had read it three times. The words felt hollow, a band-aid on a wound that was still raw underneath.
But June, as always, knew. June always knew.
The morning of the fourth day broke gray and quiet, the sky a pale pewter that promised rain. May woke to find June already awake beside her, those enormous dark eyes fixed on her face with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"May," June said softly. "May. Today is special day."
May's voice was thick with sleep. "What's special about it?"
"Special cuddle day." June nodded firmly, her pigtails—freshly done by Priya the night before—splaying across the pillow. "No outside. No chairs. No talking to people. Just May and Junie and rabbit. In bed. All day."
May's throat tightened. "Baby, I have work—"
"No." June's voice was surprisingly firm, a rare moment of certainty cutting through her usual softness. "May sad still. May scared still. Junie knows. Junie sees it in May's eyes. So today is cuddle day. No arguments."
The words came out jumbled, some of them pushed together, some of them repeated, but the meaning was unmistakable. June had made a decision. May found herself agreeing before she'd even consciously made the choice.
"Okay," she breathed. "Okay. Cuddle day."
June's face split into that radiant smile, the one that made May's heart ache with its sheer uncomplicated joy. "Yay! Junie happy! May happy?"
May leaned over and kissed her forehead. "May happy."
The morning unfolded in slow motion. Isla brought in breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast with strawberry jam, a glass of apple juice for June—and left it on the low round table by the bed. Sasha looked in, raised an eyebrow, and received a pointed look from May that communicated everything. We're not leaving this room today.
"Understood," Sasha said, and pulled the door mostly closed, leaving it cracked just enough to hear if June called.
June ate her eggs with the careful, deliberate motions of someone relearning the same task every single time. A spoonful would make it halfway to her mouth, then her hand would jerk, and the eggs would scatter across the tray. She'd laugh, a bright sound, and try again. May didn't reach out to help—she knew better than to take away June's independence, even when it was messy—but she was ready, always ready, to catch the falling spoon or steady the cup.
"Eggs go everywhere," June observed, surveying the mess with philosophical calm. "Eggs are slippery. Eggs are escape artists."
"They really are." May wiped a smear of yolk from June's chin. "Very sneaky eggs."
"Sneaky eggs," June repeated, giggling. "Sneaky sneaky eggs."
After breakfast, May cleared the dishes and returned to the bed. The curtains were still drawn, the rain having started in earnest now—a soft patter against the windows that made the room feel like a cocoon. The lavender candles flickered on the shelf, casting dancing shadows across the emerald jade duvet. June had been arranged against a mountain of pillows, her body propped up at an angle that made it easier for her to breathe.
"May lay with Junie," June said, patting the space beside her. "Junie needs snuggles."
May didn't need to be asked twice. She climbed onto the bed, careful not to jostle June, and settled in beside her. The curve of June's body was familiar, a landscape she'd memorized over years of shared nights. She wrapped her arm around June's waist, feeling the warmth of her through the thin cotton of her nightgown.
"May sad still," June said quietly. It wasn't a question.
May's silence was answer enough.
"Rabbit wants to help May," June continued, her voice gentle. "Rabbit is patient. Rabbit will wait. But rabbit is also worried, because May is sad, and May is scared, and rabbit doesn't like when May is sad or scared."
May pressed her face into June's shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of her. "I know, baby. I just—" She stopped, the words tangling in her throat. "The world is so ugly, June. And you're so—"
"So what?" June's voice was curious, open.
"So good," May finished, her voice cracking. "So pure. And there are people out there who want to hurt you just because you're different. Just because you're perfect in a way they can't understand. And I can't—I can't protect you from all of them."
June was quiet for a long moment. Her hand found May's, their fingers intertwining with practiced ease. When she spoke, her voice was softer, more thoughtful than usual.
"May remember the frog dream?"
May blinked, looking up. "The frog dream?"
"Junie dreamed of frogs. Big frog, little frog, frog on May's head. Frog hat." June smiled at the memory. "Frogs are small. Frogs are squishy. But frogs can still be happy, even when the world is big and scary. Because frogs have each other. Frogs have friends. Frogs have love."
Her hand tightened around May's. "Junie has May. Junie has Isla, Sasha, Priya. Junie has Bao, and Ba and Mẹ, and all the people in the chat who send love hearts. There are more good people than bad people, May. Junie knows this. Junie counts them."
"Counts them?"
"Every day. Junie counts the good people." June nodded, her pigtails brushing against the pillowcase. "One: May. Two: Isla. Three: Sasha. Four: Priya. Five: Ba. Six: Mẹ. Seven: Bao. Eight: the nice lady who sends Junie stickers of cats. Nine: the boy who drew Junie a picture of a dragon. Ten—" She paused, her brow furrowing. "Ten: rabbit."
May laughed, the sound wet and broken. "Rabbit is a person now?"
"Rabbit is a person," June confirmed seriously. "Rabbit is very important person. Rabbit has been with Junie for a long time. Rabbit deserves to be counted."
May was crying again, the tears falling faster now. But these were different tears, lighter somehow, washing away something that had been stuck in her chest. She pressed closer to June, her face buried in the curve of her neck.
"I love you," she whispered. "I love you so much, June."
"Junie loves May too," June said, her hand rising to stroke May's hair with clumsy, jerky movements that felt more soothing than any gentle caress could have been. "Junie loves May more than all the words in the world. More than the sky and the stars and the fish in the pond. More than pancakes and waffles and honey."
"That's a lot," May said, a smile breaking through despite everything.
"That's not even all," June said matter-of-factly. "Junie loves May more than that too."
They lay there for a long moment, the rain pattering against the windows, the candles flickering, the world narrowed to the space between them. May felt the tension slowly leaving her body, the fear that had been coiled in her chest starting to loosen.
Then June shifted, a small, controlled movement that took visible effort. She lifted her hips, just slightly, and reached down with one uncoordinated hand.
"Rabbit wants to visit May," she said softly. "Rabbit wants to help May feel better."
May's heart skipped. "June, you don't have to—"
"Junie wants to." June's eyes were steady, certain. "Rabbit makes May happy. Junie likes making May happy. It's a special day. Rabbit wants to be part of it."
May's fingers trembled as she reached out, as she did what she'd done in the garden. The familiar warmth of June's body met her, the wild tangle of hair that was so uniquely June. She stroked it slowly, reverently, letting the sensation ground her.
June sighed, her eyes fluttering closed, her body relaxing into the pillows. "See? Rabbit loves May. Rabbit tells May everything is okay. May just has to listen."
May listened. She listened to the sound of June's breathing, the gentle hum that started low in her throat and built into a melody. She listened to the rain on the windows, the faint creak of the house settling. She listened to the voice in her head that had been screaming for days, and she let it quiet.
"May feels better now?" June's voice was dreamy, heavy with contentment.
May moved her hand, a slow circle, feeling June's body respond. "I feel better when I'm with you."
"Junie is always with May. Junie is not going anywhere. Junie is stuck to May like glue." June's eyes opened, meeting May's, and there was something ancient in them, something wise. "Junie was made for May. Junie knows this. Junie doesn't remember before May, because there was no before. There was only May, and then more May."
May's hand stilled. She stared at June, at this woman who spoke in simple words but meant everything, who saw the world not as a threat but as a garden full of frogs and fish and love hearts.
"June," May said, her voice barely a whisper.
"May," June echoed, smiling.
May kissed her then, slow and tender, pouring everything she couldn't say into the press of her lips. June made a small, happy sound, her mouth opening beneath May's, and the kiss deepened. It wasn't a prelude, not yet—it was a language, a way of speaking without words.
When they broke apart, June's cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. "May's lips feel nice."
"Yours feel nicer."
"No, May's lips are the nicest lips in the whole world." June shook her head firmly. "Junie knows this. Junie checks."
"Checks?"
"Every day. Junie checks May's lips to make sure they're still the nicest." June leaned in and kissed her again, quick and smacking. "Still nice. Still the nicest."
May laughed, genuinely laughed, the sound filling the room. "You're ridiculous."
"Junie is ridiculous," June agreed happily. "Ridiculous and lovely and very, very loved."
May kissed her again, and again, each one deeper than the last. The rain kept falling. The candles kept burning. The world outside kept existing, with all its ugliness and all its cruelty and all its chaos.
But in here, there was only this. Only June's warmth and June's sighs and June's hands reaching for her with that clumsy, earnest desperation. Only the soft sounds she made as May's hands began to wander, tracing the curves of her body through the thin fabric of her nightgown.
"May," June breathed, her body arching. "May, May."
"I'm here," May murmured against her skin. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She slid the nightgown up, revealing June's body inch by inch. The thick thighs, the soft belly, the heavy breasts that spilled free when the fabric cleared them. June was beautiful in a way that had nothing to do with conventional standards—beautiful in the way she trusted, in the way she gave, in the way she loved without reservation or hesitation.
"Rabbit is happy," June observed, her voice small and breathless. "Rabbit is very happy right now."
May pressed a kiss to June's sternum, feeling her heartbeat beneath her lips. "I'm glad."
"May is happy too?"
May lifted her head, meeting June's eyes. "May is very happy."
The next hour unfolded like a slow-motion film, every moment captured in warm, golden light. May touched June's body with the reverence of a pilgrim at a shrine, tracing the silver stretch marks on her hips, the soft swell of her belly, the hollow of her throat. June keened and sighed and whispered nonsense words, her body jerking and spasming in ways that were not always voluntary but were always, always beautiful.
"May," she said, her voice breaking as May's fingers found the warmth between her thighs. "May, May, May—"
"Shh," May whispered. "I've got you."
She slid the rabbit into her mouth, tasting the familiar musk of June, letting it ground her, center her. June's cries grew louder, and May didn't quiet her—she wanted the world to hear, wanted anyone who might be listening to know that this woman, this so-called broken woman, was loved in a way they could never understand.
"Don't stop," June gasped. "Don't stop, May, please, please—"
May didn't stop. She kept going until June's back arched, until her hands fisted in the sheets, until her cries faded into a long, shuddering breath. Then she crawled up June's body, settling beside her, gathering her close.
"May," June said, barely more than a whisper. "Junie loves May. Junie loves May so much."
May's eyes burned with tears she refused to shed. "I love you, June. More than anything."
"You," June said, nuzzling into her neck, "are my whole world, May."
"I know, baby." May pressed a kiss to her temple, her own voice thick. "And I will spend my entire life making sure you never regret that."
June's eyes were already drooping, the exertion of the morning finally catching up with her. Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing bonelessly against May's. May tucked the duvet around her, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders, and let herself drift.
The house was quiet. The rain had stopped, leaving a fresh, clean smell in the air. Somewhere in the kitchen, Isla would be starting lunch. Somewhere in the office, Sasha would be handling the stream schedule, the emails, the notifications. Somewhere outside, the world continued to turn, full of ugliness and cruelty and chaos.
But here, in this room, with this woman, May was safe.
The door creaked, a tiny sound, and May's eyes flickered open. Sasha and Priya stood in the doorway, their faces soft with something that looked like wonder. Sasha caught May's gaze, nodded once, and reached for the door.
"Sleep," she silent-mouthed, and pulled it closed.
May lay in the dim light, June's head on her chest, June's hand tangled in her shirt. She could hear the gentle hush of June's breathing, the occasional murmur of a dream. She pressed her lips to June's hair, breathing in the scent of her.
It had been a bad week. A bad voice, a bad feeling, a bad night spent staring at the ceiling and wondering how she could ever protect this woman from a world that wanted to break her.
But the voice was gone. The platform had banned it, and May had filed a report, and there were people who had her back, people who would fight for June just as fiercely as she would.
And June was here, soft and warm and safe.
"Trying to protect you is a fool's errand," May murmured into June's hair. "Because you're the one holding me together."
June stirred, mumbling something incomprehensible, and burrowed closer.
May smiled, closed her eyes, and let herself sleep.